The Moon Stealers and The Children of the Light

by Tim Flanagan

  Steven edged closer to the checkpoint. He couldn’t hear any sounds that would betray the presence of humans inside the building. Where each of the three sides of the building came together there was a narrow gap which Steven assumed the guards used as an entrance to move in and out. Keeping his head down, he crept towards the nearest apex of the triangle and peered inside. Because of the lack of light entering the makeshift building it appeared very dark. Steven could just about make out the outline of three boxes, one along each side of the building, but nothing that resembled a human.

  Steven looked over towards Georgia and Tracker who were approaching a square section of building that was completely covered by tarpaulin. Steven shook his head, indicating to Tracker that there was no one in his section. He stepped through the gap at the apex and into the centre of the triangle. At the far end was an enclosed part that joined onto the square building that Georgia and Tracker were standing next to. From his side, Steven could see that the covered section was accessible by a knotted piece of string that tied a section of tarpaulin onto one of the poles.

  Steven looked out of the checkpoint towards Tracker and waited.

  Tracker found a small gap where the sheeting was loosely tied to its frame and carefully lifted it out so that he could peer inside. Steven knew that the inside would be pitch black and impossible to see into, but unless they checked they wouldn’t know if there was a guard on duty or not. If they drove past the checkpoint, a sleeping guard may become alerted to their presence by the noise from the car engine and raise the alarm.

  Steven began to unpick the knot in the string that was holding the door flap closed from his side. As the tension in the string loosened he gripped his gun tightly with one hand and pointed it towards the covered section, then began slowly peeling the tarpaulin flap back so that he could move inside. It was so dark that it felt like he was walking into an empty void. He carefully nudged his foot forward, relying on the toe of his boot to feel if anything was on the floor in the absence of his eyesight.

  The first thing he felt was something solid. As he reached out his free hand he felt the cardboard sides of a box. He tried desperately to listen for sounds of someone sleeping, the gentle intake of breath or the sticky sound of someone swallowing, but there was nothing.

  Without warning, the fabric covered house was suddenly flooded with light.

  Steven squinted, trying to protect his eyes from the sudden change, but he knew that his life depended on being able to see who had turned on the light. His mind instinctively knew, from the position of the shadows that the light had come from behind him. He spun round and gripped his gun tightly, ready to fire. As he turned and his eyes became more accustomed to the light he could see the outlines of two people, both with guns in their hands facing his direction.

  'Nothing more than a store room,' said the person holding the flashlight. Steven recognised the voice; it was Tracker.

  'Turn the light out,' Steven said desperately.

  'Don’t worry, the tarpaulin will block out the light to anyone outside,' Tracker replied.

  'I know,' agreed Steven. 'But the flap you've just entered through is still open.'

  Realising his mistake, Tracker spun round, grabbed the flap and thrust it tightly against the pole opposite, ashamed that he had forgotten.

  'Turn the light out!' Steven said again.

  Tracker flicked the switch on the handle of the flashlight and the room immediately disappeared into darkness once again.

  'Do you think anyone would have seen it?' Georgia asked.

  'I don’t know,' replied Steven, 'it depends if Osborne House has guards posted at the windows.'

  'It was only for a few seconds,' said Tracker, trying to be positive and play down his oversight.

  Steven began edging his way in the dark towards Tracker and Georgia, guided by the sound of their voices. 'Come on. Let's get back to the car. There's no one here so we can safely drive on.'

  They all moved out of the covered section of the checkpoint. Steven carefully retied the string back onto the scaffolding pole to try and hide the evidence that anyone had visited the makeshift building in the guards' absence, then they walked back down the road towards the car.

  Osborne House was signposted along the road to the left of the roundabout.

  Steven drove once again. No one said anything. The road was poorly lit, especially when cloud covered the moon, but slowly they crept forward.

  'There's a turning before Osborne House that goes to a private estate called Barton Manor,' said Georgia as she held a map up to the window so that she could read the road markings in the moonlight. 'If we leave the car there we should be able to cross the fields on foot and approach Osborne House unseen,'

  Steven kept driving whilst Georgia constantly checked the map making sure they were progressing in the right direction. After several minutes the road became shrouded with shadows from the overhanging trees.

  'The turning should be just up here,' Georgia instructed Steven.

  Steven pulled off the main road and drove through a gated entrance and along a straight road that was lined on both sides by equally spaced trees. To the left, and in the distance, Steven caught an occasional glimpse of a creamy coloured building with a tall clock tower that he recognised as Osborne House. Ahead and to the right of the road, a collection of buildings that made up Barton Manor began to loom. The occupants of the car couldn’t be sure whether this collection of buildings were occupied or not so Steven turned off the access road, squeezed the car through a gap in the trees and into a clearing hidden beneath the canopy of the small copse.

  'We can't take everything with us,' said Steven. 'We need to travel light. Let's split the antibiotics up three ways so we all have some in case we get separated. It would be better if we left the rifles here too and took smaller weapons that can be concealed under our jackets.'

  'I agree,' said Tracker. 'If we get spotted during the day, we need to be able to blend in with the community.'

  'If we can't spot Annie it may be necessary to become part of the community until we can locate her,' suggested Georgia, remembering the little girl they had been separated from at The Bank of England.

  'What about the other survivors?' asked Steven.

  'There's no way we can take everyone back to Fort Halstead,' answered Tracker.

  'Maybe we need to find Coldred's supply of antibiotics and distribute them to everyone in the community rather than just the select few.'

  'What about the vaccine?' asked Georgia.

  'If it has already been created, the community should have access to it,' replied Steven.

  'Then maybe we need to take Coldred out of his position of power.'

  'There are only three of us. It would take many more to depose him, and his supporters,' Tracker said with a shake of his head.

  'There will be many more people working in the community. It wouldn’t be the first time an uprising has toppled those in power,' replied Steven.

  'But you saw them at the Bank of England, they have lost their passion for life and all hope for the future. Coldred has not only stripped them of their wealth, but he has also drained their spirit too.'

  'With more time Coldred will only grow stronger and his influence and control over the community will grow. Do you remember what Jonas said in the holiday bungalow?'

  'The community is allowing the elderly and disabled to die because they are the weaker members of the group,' answered Georgia.

  'Exactly, but it doesn’t stop there. When he discovered us at The Bank of England, Coldred attempted to get rid of us because we were inconvenient to his plans,' Steven reminded Tracker.

  'He is grooming a community that only includes the stronger members of society that will follow and obey him without question.'

  'Time will only strengthen his position.'

  'But what can we do?' asked Tracker.

  'We need to try and encourage the people to take control if they want to live in a free communi
ty. Their human spirit needs to be ignited and their defiance and stubborn nature should not let them give in to their fate,' said Steven.

  'But how?'

  'They need someone to lead them and make them listen. Someone like a King maybe,' said Steven smiling at Tracker. 'Surrounded by a royal home, you are in the perfect position to make a difference.'

  'But… but I'm not a King,' stuttered Tracker.

  'You are a member of the royal family and in the absence of the monarch, you represent them. In times of crisis, people need someone to follow.'

  'I don’t know,' was all Tracker could say as a reply. He fell silent, distracting himself from the conversation by dividing the remaining antibiotics into three separate polythene bags.

  Steven and Georgia decided not to push Tracker any further. They unpacked and checked the smaller handguns they had and began to hide them beneath their clothing together with additional bullets. When they were done they hoisted the two remaining backpacks into the tree just in case the car was discovered then set off towards Osborne House.

  22. Andromeda's Sacrifice

  They stayed together as they walked through the trees towards Osborne House. The access road remained hidden beneath the shadows of the trees all the way, but occasionally the gaps would be large enough to betray the presence of a cleanly painted house that reflected the limited light from the moon. Silhouetted against the sky above the house were several creatures taking it in turns to swoop towards the ground in a frenzy of squeals. Steven, Georgia and Tracker followed a small narrow path that took them towards the formal gardens at the back of the house. The path became exposed by a wide lawn on the right. They crouched down amongst the shadows of what trees remained and watched the creatures diving towards an ornamental figure in the centre of a dried up fountain and pond, almost as if they were trying to eat the statue.

  As this was behaviour that they had not witnessed before, they were curious to know what the creatures were doing, so they left the security of the tree cover and crept beside a low wall topped with a lattice trellis. Through the diamond shaped gaps in the trellis they could see into the terraced gardens at the back of the house. The neatly trimmed and organised ornamental hedges were in complete contrast to the frantic and chaotic attack that was happening at the fountain. The creatures took it in turns swooping down to attack the fountain, before climbing back into the air for another creature to take their place. Steven watched the statue carefully. When a break in the frenzy allowed, he was sure he saw the statue move.

  They edged closer, carefully trying to keep out of sight of the windows in the house, which was almost impossible. There were so many windows looking out onto the gardens that every step they took brought them into view of one of them. Their progress was slow. They jumped from shadow to shadow, constantly trying to keep themselves pressed against a wall or tall plant. The clock tower provided a particular problem. They couldn’t be sure that every member of the community had moved into a secure wing of the house for the night or whether guards had been posted around the building.

  Steven crept towards a pergola, quickly followed by Tracker and Georgia who joined him beneath a dappled canopy of plants and creepers that had grown around the upright posts to form a natural roof.

  'Are there chains around the statue's hands?' asked Georgia, catching a glimpse of the statue as a creature pulled away.

  'Yes,' replied Steven. 'The statue is Andromeda, daughter of a Greek king. She was chained to a rock and left as a sacrifice to a sea monster.'

  'But why would the creatures be trying to eat a metal statue?' whispered Tracker.

  'Is the other figure the monster?' Georgia added, noticing another figure chained by its arms to the statue.

  'I don't think the creatures are interested in the statue,' replied Steven in a solemn voice. 'It's the second figure that has their attention. And that one is not a statue.'

  'What?' said Georgia with a quick intake of breath. 'You don't mean…' Georgia was unable to finish her sentence as the shock of what Steven had just said slowly sank in. As the creatures swapped positions they could see the fountain statue, but hanging forward, arms tied behind Andromeda was a lifeless figure of a man, clothes and flesh torn and tattered. As a creature bit into his shoulder and pulled back with a strong beat of its wings, the figure was pulled limply into the air, like a puppet having its strings pulled from above. As his flesh ripped, the man fell back down beside Andromeda. The body was lifeless and still and didn’t respond to the creatures attack. If he had been chained to the statue before night fell, his life would have ended in a cruel way as soon as the creatures came out to hunt. In the empty pond beneath the plinth, the surface glistened with a dark tar-like substance, as blood trickled continuously off his feet.

  Georgia turned away.

  'Do you think he was put there as a sacrifice?' asked Tracker.

  'No,' replied Steven quite definitely. 'What benefit would there be in encouraging and feeding the creatures. This is punishment.'

  Georgia reached up and touched the wound in her right arm recalling the time the three of them had come face to face with the creatures themselves. 'It seems that Coldred has taken a liking to feeding the creatures with people who don't fit in with his vision of the future.'

  'How could we forget Greenwich Park,' said Tracker.

  'This is barbaric,' added Georgia. 'To allow this man to be killed so close to the house also serves as a warning to other survivors. No one would want to suffer the same fate as this man?'

  'Any survivor will be living in fear from the monsters inside the house as well as outside.'

  'Even if we find Annie we can't leave the others to this fate. No one deserves to live like this,' Georgia said to Steven.

  The air was suddenly torn in two by the sound of gunfire.

  The bang echoed and rumbled across the sky as it bounced into the distance. The creatures leapt off the statue, startled by the loud sound but only as far as to scatter them into the sky. They circled above Osborne House waiting to judge when it would be safe to return and continue feeding on the corpse.

  Instinctively, Steven, Georgia and Tracker threw themselves down on the ground, crouching against pillars and plants with fingers on the triggers of their handguns.

  They waited and listened. Had it been aimed at the creatures, or them? Where had it come from?

  The creatures continued to circle in the sky, round and round like a flock of birds circling their prey.

  But they were hesitant and kept a safe distance.

  Tracker stood up and peered around the side of one of the pillars towards the land away from the house. Apart from manicured lawns and woodland in the distance, he couldn’t see anyone that could have made the shot. He moved over to a pillar that was thickened by the twisted trunks of an ancient plant that grew high above him. Tracker looked towards the pavilion, checking each window systematically. Every one appeared shuttered, and lifeless. His eyes glanced up towards the roof that was edged by a shallow columned parapet, but he couldn’t see any movement silhouetted against the sky.

  His eyes flashed along to the part of the house that was nearest to them. Again the windows appeared lifeless. The sky reflected in the glass, mirroring the shadows that flashed above the fountain waiting for a safe time to continue their feast. But still the creatures stayed in the air, conscious of a threat that Tracker couldn’t see.

  Tracker leant further out so he could look up towards the clock tower that loomed above them. There were two arches above the clock face. One was dark, but the other appeared to have horizontal slats covering it. Tracker looked back at the darker arch. A glint of metal flashed in the moonlight. It was immediately followed by another gunshot and a shower of splinters that exploded from one of the beams above their heads.

  Tracker ducked his head back beneath the roof of the pergola.

  'There's a gunman in the clock tower,' whispered Tracker. 'I think he's spotted us.'

  'Let's hope no one el
se joins us,' said Steven. 'We better find somewhere safe to stay until daytime.'

  'Once the survivors come out of hiding we should be able to integrate ourselves into the community without being noticed,' added Georgia.

  Steven nodded. 'There's a walled vegetable garden on the other side of the house that will be out of sight of the clock tower. If Coldred has any sense he will still be using the garden to grow vegetables. When the sun comes out and the survivors go to work on the garden we can blend in with them.'

  'But how are we going to get away from here without being shot?' asked Georgia.

  'Follow me,' said Tracker.

  He dashed along the length of the pergola taking him nearer to the house and a wall that held back a raised section of the garden. He crept along the side of the wall, keeping himself as close to the cold stone as possible. The wall curved round until it was almost directly below the clock tower.

  Steven and Georgia watched as Tracker pressed himself hard against the wall. He was relying on the fact that the gunman would not be able to see directly beneath him without leaning out of the window and over the stone ledge.

  Georgia followed the same route whilst Steven waited beneath the pergola. Tracker had now reached the corner of the building. Another few steps and he would be hidden beneath the trees and out of danger, but to do that he would have to break cover momentarily exposing him to the gunman at the top of the tower. Tracker beckoned Steven to start making his way along the wall, whilst he waited for them to join him.

  Steven slipped out from between the thick posts of the pergola and edged his way along the side of the retaining wall following the same route the other two had taken.

  A crackle of gunfire echoed once again in the night sky.

  From the corner of his eye Steven saw an orange spark exploding from one of the top windows in the tower then, just above his head, a small shower of stone dust rained down on him. The gunman must have spotted something that alerted him to Steven's presence. He crouched down as low as he could making sure he kept his head below the level of the wall. Georgia was now directly beneath the tower whilst Tracker still patiently waited, his body pressed tightly against the side of the building.